


Predicament

by Cry_Havoc



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Flogging, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Predicament Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-23
Updated: 2012-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-16 21:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cry_Havoc/pseuds/Cry_Havoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate is stubborn.<br/>Nate is a pain slut.<br/>Nate will do almost anything for Brad.<br/>Brad is aware of all the above.</p><p>
  <i>Nate’s arms are bound above his head, forcing him onto his toes. Brad is alternately sucking his cock (when Nate is on his toes) and flogging him (when Nate is hanging by his arms). Both are pushing Nate higher, but not over the edge. If Nate calls it, everything stops. It’s a battle of wills as to whether Nate comes before Brad can make him give.</i>
</p><p>A quick and dirty PWP written for the PFT Challenge #6 - <i>Damned if you do, damned if you don't</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Predicament

They’ve been at this for what feels like hours now, and Nate’s body is in pieces, only the tension of the ropes and the pain of his tight muscles keeping him from flying apart. Brad’s mouth is hot and slick on his cock, clever and knowing as Brad sucks and licks and swallows around him, pulling him towards that sweet edge over and over, then wrapping cruel fingers tight around the base of his cock to squeeze Nate’s orgasm off just as it begins. If he were permitted to make a sound, Nate would cry out with the frustration of it. Instead, he bites down into his lower lip and closes his eyes, sinking his weight down slowly until his bound arms take the tension of it and his heels brush vaguely against the floor, calf muscles singing with relief.

Brad pulls off his cock slowly, smirking as he rocks back onto his heels and reaches behind him for the flogger. The soft stroke of heavy suede against his buttocks is a warning, catching Nate’s focus and forcing him back into the present. He braces himself for the first hit, the carefully-aimed strokes re-awakening the fire that spreads in a sheet between his shoulder-blades and thighs.

“You can stop this whenever you want to, Nate,” Brad purrs, aiming three heavy strokes that criss-cross over Nate’s buttocks and thighs, the heavy sting of them pulling all the blood to the surface, sending flickers of sharp, delicious pain straight down Nate’s spine. He’s always known just how to take Nate apart, the clockwork thuds and sharp dancing pain of it stripping away the strain of the day until Nate is nothing but sensation, pliant and desperate and calm all at once.

His shoulders are starting to hurt properly now, muscles protesting the dead weight of Nate’s body in a line of pain from his bound wrists to the back of his shoulders. Nate rocks from side to side in vain, trying to ease the pressure in some small way that might give him just a few more minutes resting against the rope. He earns a few sharp licks of the flogger to his flanks for his troubles, but Brad’s knot-work is too clever; there’s no give and the only possible release for his shoulders is the screaming pain of pressing back up onto his toes.

The harsh strokes of the flogger stop the moment Nate transfers his weight onto the balls of his feet, arm-muscles heavy with the sudden release of tension. He hears Brad hum in pleasure behind him, tossing the flogger to the floor and returning to his knees, swallowing Nate down in one. The shock of Brad’s mouth delicious, almost enough Nate goes boneless and sinks into his shoulders again, but he catches himself at the last moment. His breath comes in sharp pants as he tries to encourage Brad’s mouth using nothing but subtle shifts of his hips, begging for release as wantonly as his last tatters of pride will allow.

Brad’s good at sucking cock; he knows every one of Nate’s tells and can get him off in minutes, or draw it out for hours at a time. It’s a skill he’s proud of, and Nate’s desperate mind latches onto that, begging with his body as much as his current bondage will allow, flattering Brad’s skills with every rock of his hips and shudder that runs through his body.

It doesn’t work. Brad pulls off slowly, pursing his lips to blow a steady stream of cold air across the thick vein on the underside, making Nate shudder and squirm, even though there’s nowhere for him to go. 

“So stubborn,” Brad says, lapping at the head of Nate’s cock as though he has all the time in the world as though Nate is quivering with the need to come. “Your legs are shaking with it,” he mocks.

Nate fights the urge to vocalise, to whine and groan and curse. Speaking means that Brad has won and Nate will not give him that satisfaction. They’re evenly matched in most things, until every simple exercise become a battle of wills that neither will concede. Instead, he closes his eyes, focuses on Brad’s mouth as it closes around his cock again, sucking and licking and pulling Nate closer and closer. The sharp edges of the pain merge and blur into acidic sweetness, until Nate’s nerves can no-longer distinguish between pleasure and pain, just searching for enough of an edge to get himself off. It’s all a mind game, and Nate is nothing if not a master of self-control.

He’s almost there when the shaking in his legs becomes too much, the muscles in his calves giving way without any warning or conscious choice on Nate’s part. The weight of his body jerks his shoulders painfully, but the ropes are clever and hold him fast, twisting until he can catch the floor with his feet. He doesn’t open his eyes to see Brad’s grin, but he can imagine it anyway, knows that Brad can almost taste his victory already. It just makes Nate all the more determined to hold out.

There’s no warning before Brad’s first blow this time, and the first hit of the flogger makes Nate cry out in surprise, swimming momentarily in an overwhelming sea of sensation, pain too much and too little all at the same time. Brad’s hand is there instantly in the small of Nate’s back, grounding him even as he leans in, whispers in Nate’s ear.

“Was that a noise, Nate? Are you asking me to stop?”

Nate shakes his head as vigorously as he can, lifting his chin in defiance as he does so. Despite how his skin is burning, he can still feel the heat of Brad’s bare chest against his side as he reaches up and checks the bonds around Nate’s wrists.

“Good.” Brad’s voice is sharp again, all business and determination. “No more noises.”

This time, Nate is braced ready for the rain of heavy blows that land indiscriminately between his shoulders and his thighs. He can no longer track the individual hits, can’t pinpoint where they land on his body, every one reverberating up his back, adding to the pooling fire low in his belly. He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, no longer capable of thought beyond desperation, just a solid, shaking mess of sticky sweet pain and urgent burning need.

Nate’s calves protest as he rocks himself forwards onto his toes again, biting down into his lower lip to keep the pained groan from spilling out. He needs Brad’s mouth back on him, needs Brad to swallow him down and pull him all the way over that sweet edge of orgasm before his body gives out under the onslaught.

He’s so close now that Brad’s tongue flickering over the slit of his cock is almost enough to bring him off, the frisson of contact so close to what he needs that he can feel his orgasm swirling, sharp and hot in the pit of his stomach. Nate wants to beg for it. In a crazy moment of need, he knows he’ll do anything Brad asks just to keep him there, licking and humming and swallowing him down. He wants to tear free and take Brad’s head in his hands and just fuck his mouth until he comes hard enough to see stars, but the best he can do is cant his hips forward, brush the burning, aching head of his cock against Brad’s lips.

“Something you need, Nate?” Brad looks up through his lashes like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but Nate knows him too well, sees how Brad’s boxers are tented beneath his open flies. He’s just as desperate as Nate is, so incredibly turned on just from watching Nate struggle, from trying to force him to break first. There’s a set of discomfort to Brad’s pose, as though just leaning forward too far will give him just enough friction to have him coming still in his jeans.

Nate’s legs give out before he even notices, muscles shaking and stiff all at once. He closes his eyes against hot tears of frustration as Brad picks up the flogger again, moves around to begin another round of sweet, sharp pain. Brad reaches out slowly, his fingers sliding over Nate’s hip to turn him back into position. The gentle pressure of Brad’s hands over the welts on Nate’s back are a shock of sharp pain and raw human connection, and Nate cries out loudly as his world goes white, orgasm thundering through him like an unstoppable force, rocking his hips forward into nothingness as he comes for what feels like hours.

He floats on it, lets the waves wash over him and wring him dry, only vaguely aware of Brad’s hands on his hips, the heat of skin against skin as Brad shoves his jeans and boxers away, spills hot and thick all over Nate’s thighs, groaning his name over and over again.

“I think we call that ‘going off half cocked’,” Brad murmurs, but his voice conveys his amusement as he runs careful hands up the tense muscles of Nate’s shoulders, cutting him free of the bondage and lowering Nate’s arms slowly, fingertips rubbing all the while.

End


End file.
